


Always Yours

by eadunne2



Category: Supernatural, destiel - Fandom
Genre: Aftercare, Angst, Bottom Castiel, Depression, Dom/sub, Domestic, Happy Ending, M/M, Smut, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 06:25:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4049593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eadunne2/pseuds/eadunne2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wanted a sub, not a boyfriend, and Cas wanted to be whatever he wanted. But he couldn’t be more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Yours

**Author's Note:**

> Saw a bunch of requests for sub!Cas and aftercare. I've always been more of a sub!Dean/powerbottom!Dean girl, but this was knocking around in my head, so here you go!
> 
> PS, there's some depressed!Cas going on here. This is not a great example of how dom/sub dynamics SHOULD look, just a framework for our boys figuring some stuff out.

It was late in the afternoon. It had been raining all day, the kind of rain that leaves the whole world soft and blue and quiet. Cas was perched on the window ledge, watching the grey of cigarette smoke twisting gently up through the open pane, breathing deeply at the smell of water and exhaust and food and flowers from the cart parked a few doors down. 

He could never decide whether he liked or hated days like this. Days where his heart felt tugged in a million directions, a hundred memories, a thousand flavors of nostalgia. In some ways it felt right, like the weather was trying to speak for him. And in some ways it felt like drowning, like if the leaves hung any heavier from the trees, he’d find out for certain he had a soul by watching it shatter.

It was rarely a good idea for him to be left alone on days like today. He’d tried to get Dean to stay, but Sam had called, needed help with something, and Cas always preferred to let Dean go then ask him to choose and risk being the one that got left behind. 

And anyway, he’d be home soon. The thought made Cas smile into the damp dimness of their shared apartment, and stubbing the smoke out in a pool of raindrops that had collected on the brick of the window sill, he slid down to the floor and flicked on the lights in the kitchen. 

Dreary though it was outside, he did love their little apartment. It had started as a roommate situation when Sam moved in with his girlfriend, but not long after, one whiskey addled night had turned into sloppy blowjobs on the living room floor and now they were…Cas wasn’t actually sure what to call it, so like the Sam thing, instead of asking, he just left it alone. It was good, what they had, better than before, and sometimes when the weight of missing grace and the smell of burning feathers wound him too tight, the rough sweep of Dean’s hands across his skin was enough to bring him back. 

He started a pot of water boiling before crumbling breadcrumbs and ground meat from the fridge into a ceramic bowl. Soon, meatballs were simmering sauce and spaghetti (angelhair, ha) were cooling in a colander in the sink. Cas turned on the radio and hummed along, allowing the yellow glow of the kitchen and the smell of spices to lure him out of his negative headspace and into something more manageable. 

Dean came home just as Cas finished throwing the last of the tomatoes into a small salad, and Cas smiled as he heard the gentle thunk of boots dropping to the rug and the clink of keys on the counter. 

“Smells good,” Dean grunted, swiping his finger through the sauce. He stood so close that Cas could feel the heat of him, and smell him damp and shampoo and the leather of his jacket. 

Despite the change in their relationship, they still weren’t dating, so though he wanted to, Cas didn’t greet him with a kiss, and instead distracted himself by reaching for the pasta. He missed the way Dean’s fingers twitched out to touch Cas’s back, then fell. 

“How’s Sam?” Cas asked, surprised to find a genuine smile on his lips as he watched Dean pull two beers from the fridge and accidentally knock his head on the handle of the freezer. 

“He’s-ah-he’s fine,” Dean mumbled, rubbing the back of his head with one hand before popping the caps off the bottles. “His girlfriend’s been off lately, but he’s been weird too. Think he just needed to get it off his chest, you know?” He held out a bottle for Cas, who took it, allowing the way their fingers brushed for too long. 

“Yes,” Cas nodded, observing him. 

Dean grinned and leaned back on the counter. The black tee he wore clung to his body a little more than usual, probably due to the rain, and his eyes sparkled, no doubt enjoying the way Cas had unconsciously tucked his lip between his teeth and the sight.

Dean must’ve seen something Cas thought he was hiding though, because he stepped forward and murmured, “Hey. Are you ok?”

Cas stepped back abruptly, trying out a smile. “Yes. Of course.” He reached up, pulling plates from the cupboard. “You hungry?”

“Cas.” Cas froze at Dean’s tone. “Look at me.”

Against his better judgement, he complied.

Dean set his beer down as he stepped forward, back into Cas’s space, and tilted his chin up with calloused fingers. “Let’s try that again,” he murmured, voice dangerously low. “You ok?”

It took Cas a moment to realize he wasn’t breathing. Dean didn’t look away though, didn’t flinch, just waited, and Cas suddenly understood where all the comments about his staring being disconcerting had come from. He felt like Dean was ripping him open.

He couldn’t say, “I’m broken.” He was a shell, not even a man. He was a murderer. He couldn’t say, “I’m useless,” though he was. Powerless. But Dean still came back. Still touched him. Still spoke his name like he was someone. He couldn’t say, “I don’t deserve you.” So instead, he did the only thing he could. He started a scene. 

“Harrison Ford.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up but he nodded, and Cas exhaled in gratitude that he didn’t ask, “Are you sure?” 

“Paul Newman.” Dean’s eyes flashed bright, and though Cas could no longer see his soul, the memory of it was suddenly clearer. “Go to my bedroom. Undress. Wait for me on your knees.”

Hiding a smile, Cas nodded and moved away, heart hammering against his ribs. He loved sceneing with Dean, loved the feeling of skin against skin. Nothing compared to the feeling of Dean’s mouth on his, or the taste of Dean’s cum on his tongue. Nothing in heaven. Nothing on earth.

Clothes folded neatly on the dresser he sank to his knees and waited. Simply the thought of Dean touching him and he was already starting to get hard, but he took a breath, willing himself a little calmer. 

He didn’t have to wait long. 

Dean came in peeling his shirt from his body and Cas nearly groaned at the sight, biting his lip to keep quiet. 

Coming to a stop inches from Cas he murmured, “What do you want tonight, Cas?”

Cas frowned up at him. He didn’t want choices right now. He wanted to be used. To be useful.

Dean got the message. 

“Lean back. Let me see you.”

Tilting back on his heels, Cas obeyed, smiling shyly as Dean’s eyes raked over his torso. 

“Gettin’ hard for me already, huh, angel? Greedy.” 

Cas bit his lip coyly, hoping to egg Dean on. It worked. With a growl, he shoved his jeans and boxers down his hips. His cock sprung free, at least as hard as Cas’s, and Cas sent up a silent prayer that he’d get to feel the weight of it on his tongue. He was not disappointed. With Dean, he never was.

“Open your mouth,” Dean commanded, and Cas obeyed, gasping as Dean fisted his hair and pressing his dick past Cas’s lips. 

Relaxing, Cas took him in, shimmying his tongue down the underside of his cock before pulling off and pushing forward again. Again. Dean was hardening on his tongue, and Cas watched in lustful awe the sight of his stomach tensing and releasing at the sensation of Cas’s mouth. It was incredible to have that power. 

Cas went at it voraciously, and as Dean drew closer to the edge the action became less of Cas blowing Dean and more of Dean fucking Cas’s face. Just how he liked it.

“Fuck, Cas. You’re incredible. That mouth….oh…fuck that mouth.” Cas blushed, feeling both proud and unworthy of such praise. The tiny sounds Dean was making tugged him out of his head though, and he looked up at the beautiful man, skin flushed, corded muscles in his arms standing out as he trembled his way closer to release, and when Cas finally felt him tense he pushed forward all the way, ‘til his nose was brushing Dean’s stomach, taking it down his throat with ease. 

With a pained whine, Dean eased him off and shakily tugged Cas to his feet, shoving him towards the bed. He kicked his jeans the rest of the way off and flopped down, rubbing his fingers through the sticky-silk trail of precum on Cas’s stomach. “You’re fucking amazing,” Dean breathed, and Cas shook his head with a half smile. “You are,” Dean insisted, and kissed Cas sweetly, too sweetly for a scene, making Cas’s heart ache with a craving for something that would never be his.

Dean wanted a sub, not a boyfriend, and Cas wanted to be whatever he wanted. But he couldn’t be more.

He didn’t get a chance to say anything though, because Dean was nuzzingly his way down his chest, nipping and licking until he was nosing at the crease of Cas’s thigh. “Fuck,” Dean murmured, as he shifted up between Cas’s legs. “Look at you.”

He ran reverent palms over Cas’s thighs, scraping nails over his hips, until finally, thankfully, licking a stripe up Cas’s cock. “Ohhhh,” he moaned. 

“Did I give you permission to speak?” Dean growled, voice suddenly menacing, and Cas had to suppress a smile at the sound, and shook his head.

“Turn over,” Dean said. “Bad boys deserve to be punished.”

Greedily, Cas turned over and Dean yanked him up to his knees, giving no warning before his palm cracked against Cas’s ass.  
Intent on being good, Cas bit back the cry and reveled in the sting. Another smack. And another.

Cas leaned into the pain, reveling in the rightness of it, until finally Dean smoothed over his ass with gentle hands and suddenly Cas felt Dean pull him open and a tongue tracing the hot flesh, then in between, licking a stripe from his balls to his lower back.  
Cas whimpered, and Dean didn’t chastise him. Instead, he tongue fucked him to the edge and almost over it before flipping him over and pressing a finger in, watching Cas’s face with reverence. It was too much.

“Shit. Look at you, Cas,” he breathed. “So fuckin’ good for me. So beautiful. So goddamn perfect. I don’t deserve you. Don’t deserve-“

“Purgatory!” The safeword jumped out of his mouth before he could stop it and Dean immediately froze then withdrew as Cas balled himself up. 

“Cas?” Cas shook his head, trying to breathe. “Castiel?”

Fuck. He couldn’t even do this right. A shitty angel, an even shittier man.

“Cas, I’m not gonna touch you, but I need you to talk to me.”

Blearily, Cas blinked up at him. Why was he blurry? A tear burned its way to the edge of his eye, and he buried his head back in the pillow. This couldn’t be happening. 

He felt the bed shift then the sounds of rustling fabric. Soft cloth was being draped over his body. 

“I’ll be right back,” Dean murmured into his ear. 

When Cas sat up, he realized Dean had covered him in Dean’s own bath robe. He pulled it on, cinching the belt at his waist and curling up against the headboard, wincing at the pain in his ass. When Dean returned he was wearing pajama pants and carrying a cup of tea, which he handed to Cas then settled at the end of the bed a few feet away.

Avoiding his eyes, Cas sipped on the tea.

“Cas. What happened?”

Cas should’ve kept his eyes down. If he’d kept his eyes down he would’ve never seen the fear and guilt in Dean’s eyes, or the beginnings of tears glimmering beneath his lids. He would’ve missed the way Dean’s thumbnail picked so aggressively at a cuticle that it started bleeding. He would’ve missed the way Dean’s mouth trembled when he whispered, “Please?”

But he saw it all. “You didn’t hurt me, Dean. It’s not your fault.” They were both so good at ignoring things that Cas prayed they could just let this go. He didn’t realize he’d said it aloud until Dean said, “No way am I letting this go. Cas…I thought…do you not want to do this anymore?”

“No!” The panic in Cas’s voice came as a surprise to both of them. “No, I do. I like being yours. I like following your orders. I like touching you, like you touching me.” His voice was so soft.

Dean slid of the bed in a fit of nervous energy and held his hands palms up, begging. “Then what?”

“You just can’t say shit like that!” Cas burst out.

“Like…what?”

“That I’m…I’m beautiful or incredible or…or,” Cas fumbled for the words.

“But you are.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Dean. We’re not sceneing. You don’t have to say that.”

“Cas.” The word was punched from his lips. “Can I touch you?”

Shrugging, Cas nodded without even looking up. Dean plucked the mug from his hands, then pulled him to his feet. 

“What are you doing?”

“Have dinner with me?”

Of all the things Dean might’ve said, that was not what Cas was expecting. He obeyed, standing by in the kitchen while Dean loaded a plate and grabbed a bottle of water and led him to the living room couch. Sitting next to Cas, he twirled some pasta on a fork and held it up to Cas’s lips.

“What are you doing?” Cas murmured again.

“Taking care of you,” Dean shot back, almost defensively.

“I told you, Dean, you don’t have to do that.”

“I’m not doing it because I have to!” His voice was loud and desperate and Cas leaned forward and took the pasta from the fork with his mouth more out of shock than anything else. 

“Good. Thank you.” Cas nodded and watched as Dean took a bite too. “This is delicious, Cas.”

“I’m glad.” He watched Dean’s face, affection thudding dully in his chest. Dean was so beautiful. Even in hell, torn to pieces, he shone. And here, shirtless and freckled and glowing, Cas could barely breathe for the sight of him. 

Dean looked up at him shyly, a smile dancing on his face, occasionally wiping away sauce from Cas’s face with a thumb and sucking it off.  
Despite himself, Cas found himself aroused by the sight, and he smiled back. It was strangely intimate, and though he was still embarrassed, Cas found himself genuinely endeared by it. 

When they’d finally finished, Dean sat back, and his usual confidence turned to something disturbingly close to nervousness. 

“Dean?”

“I think you’re beautiful, Cas.”

Cas sighed. “And I, you, Dean. But I told you-“

“I’m not saying this because I have to Cas. I’m saying this because I…I think I fucked this up and…I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t…try to…” He was fumbling with his words and Cas sat silently, indulgently, confused. “I don’t know how to do this.” He said finally, dropping his hands in his lap.

“Do…what?”

Dean was suddenly pacing the living room, running his hand through his hair. He looked genuinely troubled and for a moment Cas was worried he might start throwing things, but instead he just turned around and stared at Cas, eyes huge.

“Cas. I love you. I don’t deserve you, and you’re too good for me, but I love you. If you don’t want this or me or whatever anymore, just tell me, I’ll move out…I’ll leave you alone, but-“

Cas got his mouth working in time to say, “Dean.” 

“I know I’m not-“

“Shut up, Dean.”

He felt like fire had started in his gut and was spreading warmth through his limbs. He bounced to his feet and right up into Dean’s space.  
“I safeworded because I love you, too.”

“That…makes no sense, Casanova.” Cas could tell he was teasing out of discomfort. 

“I thought we were just…fucking. I couldn’t handle you talking like you loved me if we were just fucking.”

“Jesus Christ, Cas.” Dean fell back on his heel, looking a little hurt. “How could you think that?”

Cas shrugged. “I’m nothing now. I’m useless.” He turned back to the couch and took a pull of water before continuing. “I don’t have powers, I’m not much of a hunter... You’re so much more.”

“God-fucking-damnit Castiel!” Cas turned back quickly, surprised by the anger in his voice. “Can I kiss you?” Dean practically yelled.

Cas had barely nodded when Dean shoved him into the wall and was kissing, licking his mouth open. “You. Are. Beautiful,” Dean muttered between kisses. He huffed and began sucking bruises into Cas’s neck. “I don’t care that you don’t have powers!” He paused and pulled back. “I care that you lost them. I care that you miss them. But honestly, Cas? I’m glad you’re human. I know it’s selfish, but you can’t just disappear. You’re here. I can touch you. I can feel you. You…you can be mine.”

Cas pushed him back, palms to his shoulders before volleying back, “I was always yours, Dean.”

And then they were tumbling back into bed, teeth and hands and tears they’d deny later. Dean worked Cas open with reverence and delicacy until Cas shoved himself down on his fingers and Dean’s control snapped and pressed into him slowly, trembling. He wrapped his arms up and under Cas’s shoulders and rocked into him. Overwhelmed by the embrace Cas found himself weeping but Dean was there to catch him, murmuring praises into his neck.

“Please, Dean, please…” 

“I got you, Cas.”

And he did. With a spit slick hand around him, Cas came on Dean’s cock and shook through the last few thrusts, catching Dean in his arms as he fell and they lay there until Dean finally rolled off to get a warm washrag, wipe them clean, and crawl back in bed to spoon behind Cas.

Cas felt Dean nose into the nape of his neck, felt him breathe in, and when Dean’s hands slid around him and pull them flush, a small sound fell from his lips. 

“I love you, Cas.” 

“I love you too, Dean.” 

For the first time since he’d fallen, Castiel felt whole again.

They fell asleep listening to the sound of rain.

**Author's Note:**

> Dom/sub relationships are all about communication! Never try to coerce your dom or sub, even if you feel like you "NEED" it (take it from a sub that used to try to manipulate a little like Cas did here). Be open and honest about your headspace. Be good to yourself!  
> LOVES!


End file.
